


Peace

by orphan_account



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Anxiety, Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Post-Canon, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-28 21:45:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18764854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Asura's threat was no more, but paradoxically, Maka found herself growing restless despite the calm atmosphere.





	Peace

It was three in the morning, and Maka was outside Crona's door. 

One hand curled about a flickering lantern. The other rest against the door, her skin protected from the cold metal by the cloth of her glove. Motionless with hesitation, she wasn't sure exactly how long she'd stood there, the only sound available to her being that of her own breath. 

She found herself frustrated at her own inability to wait until a decent hour to come. 

Really, it was the school's fault, for not getting Crona out of the dungeon cellar and getting them somewhere that was easier to access. Maka had been able to see every one of her friends with ease in the days following that last battle, every one, except them. 

Of course, Crona was still healing. It wouldn't be fair of her to ignore the fact that their injuries were a part of it. 

A sigh escaped her, fingers curling against the door's barrier. Once upon a time she would have been horrified at the thought of breaking into the school without permission. Here and now, the only thing that'd kept her from doing this sooner was Death's promise that her friend's crimes were forgiven in light of their actions against Medusa. 

It still wasn't enough. Maka thought she was fine, but the more peace she found the more restless she became. Always checking in on her friends, Kid, Black*Star, Soul, reminding herself that they'd all survived along with her, that they were okay despite what her nightmares would have her believe. 

Tonight, the image of what Medusa had done was painful and fresh. To make things worse, Crona had left without her knowledge and put themself in danger once too many times for Maka to be able to tolerate waiting until a more appropriate time. 

With some regret, she mustered up the courage to finally knock. It felt too loud in the quiet hall, too invasive. She glanced over her shoulder just to make sure she wouldn't find one of the teachers breathing down her shoulder. 

Another knock, the sound almost solid, and her own voice ringing in her ears. "...Crona? Are you awake?"

It was three in the morning.

"Maka...?"

The murmur was just barely loud enough for her to hear. Thick with sleep, lifting in confusion at the end. 

A shuffle of cloth. The clack of a latch lifting. A shrill creaking as the door opened.

Maka had an explanation prepared, but it caught in her throat, the words trapped in place. Instead, she closed the distance between them and wrapped Crona up in a hug. Face buried in the taller's shoulder, she clung on as tight as she dared, ever mindful of those still-healing wounds. She swallows hard, and a noise that was too sharp and too shrill for her liking emitted through her teeth. 

Crona's stiff, uncertain, but as soon as they heard their friend break against their front, they wrapped their arms around her in return.

"Maka."

And there's a hundred things she wants to say.

Her fight with the Kishin. Her friends, defeated and near death. Distrust of the school, fear of what Death was keeping from them.

Crona's imprisonment. The sight of Medusa's arrow, impaling them through the back, taking a blow that was meant for _her._  

And they're not the first person to do that, they're not the first one to almost die on her, that she might live. 

Another noise, strangled and raw, and her eyes are burning where they press against Crona's shoulder, and if she weren't so stubborn a person, she'd admit to herself that she was leaving patches of wet in her wake. 

Small movements. Maka feels Crona press their face into the top of her head, one hand going up to scratch over the hairline at the back of her neck. The other splays out against the center of her back, applying pressure to hold her close enough that Maka can feel it when Crona deepens their breath. An offered example, to help her calm down. 

With little movements, nothing ever too sudden or too fast, Crona leads her inside the cell.   
  
They sit her down, they wrap their weighted blanket around her shoulders. They hold her hand and keep themself pressed against her side, a constant reminder of their presence. All things that she'd once done for them, once upon a time. 

"...it's okay, Maka. I-it's okay."

And maybe it is. Maybe. Everything should be fine, now. The bad guys were gone.

But for a moment, it was all she could do to keep a hold of herself, and remember, remember, that they were all still there.

Crona was still there. 

They played, absently, with one of her pigtails. She clung to every motion.

It was three in the morning.


End file.
